


Keeps Me Alive

by summerstorm



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-26
Updated: 2010-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-14 03:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Jeremy/Tyler porn. I wish I had a summary to give, but I don't. Warning for general S2 spoilers, to be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeps Me Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [preromantics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/gifts), [gigantic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantic/gifts).



> Thanks to A for the read-over!

"What are you doing here, Gilbert?" Tyler says when he opens the door.

Jeremy's not really someone he _hates_ now, exactly, but old habits die hard. Besides, Jeremy looks like there's a ghost hanging around the house somewhere behind Tyler, all jittery and weird, and that doesn't exactly seem like it will bode well for Tyler.

"Can we just—talk? Somewhere?"

A warning look is all Tyler bothers to throw Jeremy's way before letting him in. Jeremy follows Tyler to his dad's study—the study, whatever the fuck they're supposed to call it now his dad's dead—and leans back against the big desk, figuring Jeremy will just plop down somewhere, which he—doesn't. Because there's something wrong with him, or maybe because he's enough of a bitch to decide he's just going to hang around and piss Tyler off.

Tyler hopes he's not waiting to be asked a question, let alone be asked to sit down or something.

Jeremy glances back at him a few times as he looks around the room, and eventually settles on the armrest of a couch, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs. He starts fiddling with his ring, and Tyler cocks his head and presses his lips together to make it more obvious that Jeremy said he needed to talk, and that means he has to _start talking_.

He does.

"There's something I think you should know," Jeremy says. He doesn't look entirely convinced.

Tyler's lip curls up in confusion. "...okay?"

There isn't any more conviction on Jeremy's face than there was before when he says, "It's about your uncle. Mason?" Tyler props himself up onto his feet with his hands on the edge of the desk at that—it's fucking infuriating that Jeremy thinks he knows something about Mason that Tyler doesn't, but if he does, Tyler needs to know _right now_. "He's not missing. Well, he's missing, but mostly he's not—he's dead," Jeremy says, tactful as ever. "Which you probably suspected, but I wanted to—confirm? I'm sorry."

"How the fuck can you know that?"

Jeremy scrunches up his nose apologetically. "I was there," he says. It sounds like a question.

Crossing the space between them is automatic. It takes only a couple of long, determined strides that pull Jeremy out of his crouched-into-himself thing and into standing so Tyler's not looking down at him, too. This time, unlike the general low tone they'd kept until now, Tyler's voice comes out strident and loud and exactly the way it fucking should be said: "And you let him _die_?"

Jeremy doesn't answer—his breathing snaps in loud enough for Tyler to hear. There's about a foot of space between them and Tyler is trying really, really hard not to throw a punch or grab Jeremy's collar and strangle him with it.

"Who did it?" Tyler says, trying to keep his voice even. It mostly sounds gritted out, coming through his teeth. "If you were there, you have to know who did it."

"I can't say," Jeremy says. "I'm sorry."

The urge to grasp Jeremy's t-shirt is far too strong to resist now, and Tyler pulls him a little closer by it, looking him right in the eye. "How can you not _say_? You have a mouth you can talk through. So talk."

"I can't. It was a vampire, that's all I can tell you. I left really fast, I didn't even see that much. I shouldn't have told you this."

Tyler lets go of him and paces across the room. He punches a wall when he reaches one. It's not as satisfying as punching somebody's face.

"I shouldn't have told you," Jeremy repeats, mumbled, and he sounds so genuinely apologetic Tyler almost feels bad. If it was a vampire, if it was—it's probably not his fault, but at the same time he _knew_ , all along, and Tyler's only just finding out.

"You're right," Tyler says, and he walks towards Jeremy now in a pace slow enough that Jeremy walks back to dodge him. Before Tyler knows what's happened, he has Jeremy backed against a wall and he's snarling, "You should have told me _earlier_ ," and pushing Jeremy against the wall, pinning his shoulders to it.

"We're not going to have a fight, are we?" Jeremy says, and it's the last stroke. He's wearing one of his stupid leather jackets, and it's so easy to grab the edges of the zipper and turn him around, throw him down onto the floor. Tyler's strong, and he's even stronger since he activated the werewolf curse. Jeremy falls on his ass on the carpet like a domino, it's kind of pathetic.

Jeremy doesn't make a move to get up as Tyler advances toward him, and he doesn't make a move to get up as Tyler falls onto his knees at both sides of Jeremy's legs and pins Jeremy's hips down with his thighs. He bends over him until his head's in the space between Jeremy's neck and his shoulder and it feels like he's pinning Jeremy to the floor with his entire body and not just his legs.

He's going for intimidating, leaning in and asking in his ear, "What happened to Mason?"

"I don't know," Jeremy says. His words are clipped, a little scared.

"Why couldn't you _stop it_ ," Tyler adds. "What the fuck happened and why couldn't you stop it, tell me that and I won't fucking fight you." He leans in closer, until his mouth is touching Jeremy's neck and Jeremy's starting to breathe heavily, like not knowing what to answer is jacking up his nerves.

Jeremy's not answering, and Tyler's going to ask again. He breathes in deep, gathering up the words, feeling Jeremy shudder under him because he has no idea what Tyler's going to do. He takes another deep breath, just to be a dick, just to make him wait, and he's going to—he's going to ask again, but then he stops, suddenly. His eyes close down and he breathes in and his nose pokes Jeremy's ear, his neck, and it's—

He has Jeremy Gilbert beneath him, and it's been a passing thought, a time or two, fucking him into the ground, but right now it's all coming back, mixed in with the adrenaline and how warm Jeremy's skin is, and Tyler's _calming down_. He doesn't even fucking know why; he switches gears from fight to some kind of comfort, and instead of freaking him out that this is such a horribly compromising position to be in when you're not hurting the person you have _pinned to the floor with your hips_ , it's soothing. It's soothing to breathe Jeremy in, the recognizable scent of that stupid perfume he wears upped by a million percent by this stupid werewolf thing, the smell of shampoo over his ears, and lower as Tyler runs his nose down Jeremy's neck, where it meets his shoulder, under the stretched out collar of his shirt, the chemicals fading out and being replaced by just skin and a soft layer of something like sweat—

Jeremy makes a noise, chest heaving for the first time in a while, like he was still before, like he went still without Tyler _noticing_.

Tyler pulls his head up and bites the sound off of Jeremy's lips.

It's just that, right now. Tyler breaks away to take a look at Jeremy's face, intending to get off him and tell him to go home.

Jeremy looks—confused, for a moment, but suddenly it's like a switch flicks on in his eyes, and his expression goes from wary and guarded to a half-open mouth and heavy-lidded eyes, and his body goes from still to Jeremy bending up his knee until his thigh's plastered to the back of Tyler's and his hands are clutching Tyler's t-shirt and he's _arching up_ , almost rocking into him.

Tyler scrambles off the floor, disentangling their bodies and saying, "Get up, get up." Jeremy does instantly, holding onto Tyler's arm, and he looks confused for a moment before Tyler grabs the waistband of his jeans and uses the grip to walk him back against the wall. Tyler buries his face in Jeremy's neck again, pulling back only to yank his jacket off, and Jeremy reacts instantly, pulling his shirt over his head and gasping when Tyler mouths at his collarbone, his chest, wraps his lips around Jeremy's nipple as he undoes Jeremy's fly with one hand, not really planning to touch him now, just getting some work done ahead.

He drags his lips back up until they're on Jeremy's jaw, and then Jeremy's hand is on the back of Tyler's head and Tyler's honest to fucking God being, for the first time since—fuck, since _Vicki_ —being pulled in like someone's life depends on Tyler kissing them.

Well, fuck it, if someone's life depends on that, Tyler's not going to let them die.

Jeremy's mouth's already open for him, anyway, and sticking his tongue in Jeremy's mouth allows him to press their bodies together, to almost rub up against him, get some of the pressure off. It's also even fucking better than smelling him; Jeremy's gone pliant and the hand on the back of Tyler's head is soft now, fingers absently stroking his neck, and Tyler can bite Jeremy's lips and lick along his teeth, around his mouth, taste him. It's overwhelming, how much he can taste, how much he can smell now. It wasn't like this before the transformation, with Aimee. It wasn't like this and he doesn't think he would have liked it to be like this, not with someone he couldn't tell where the intensity was coming from.

When Tyler breaks away for a second, Jeremy says, "Where's your mom?" and it occurs to Tyler for the first time that they left the door to the study open and there are so many rooms in this house they could be in where nobody will randomly walk in on them. "We should—"

"Shut up," Tyler says, looking back over his shoulder, "shut up," because he needs to listen, needs to steady his heartbeat and stop feeling like he's going to burst. He needs to be rational for long enough to go somewhere, to move.

"I wasn't saying anything—"

"Shut _up_ ," Tyler repeats, and takes a step back from Jeremy. It's not as easy to let go of him, but he manages. He says, "Follow me," and heads out of the study and up the stairs.

Tyler gets rid of his own shirt somewhere between the landing and the door to his bedroom. Jeremy's close behind him; Tyler can tell even without turning to look. He actually lets Jeremy step into his room first before kicking the door shut behind him, and it's good, it's really fucking useful because it makes it so _easy_ to walk Jeremy back until Jeremy falls back on Tyler's bed. Tyler crawls over him, pinning him to the mattress like he did to the floor earlier, if maybe not as afraid Jeremy might try to get out.

He leans in to kiss him again, and Jeremy's hands fall on Tyler's chest this time. Jeremy isn't as pliant this time; he surges up to kiss Tyler, giving as good as he takes, and he touches every fucking part of Tyler that's bare, pinches his nipples until Tyler moans loud enough to hear, moves his hands to Tyler's back and drags his nails along skin roughly enough for Tyler to really feel them.

Tyler pulls back just to compose himself, because, because he needs to—he needs to take some of the edge off, stop feeling like he can't control himself, and he grinds his hips down against Jeremy's, really noticing Jeremy's hard for the first time, even though he feels like there's no way this happened just now, not when Tyler's cock has been desperate for attention since the second Jeremy arched into him on the floor. He runs his hands over Jeremy's bare chest, trying to slow down. He sits up and his thumbs end up around Jeremy's hipbones, his jeans and underwear resting lower, low enough there's a hint of hair over the waistband, following the trail from his bellybutton, and god, Tyler wants to—but he can't, he's still rubbing down, just rolling his hips.

Jeremy's saying something. Somewhere in his head Tyler can focus and hear it, open his eyes and see Jeremy's mouth moving. Jeremy's asking something, asking something please—please stop, or please get off me, maybe, and Tyler strains to listen over the ringing in his ears, to pay attention. It snaps him out to see Jeremy's mouth move again; he slows down, not a lot, but he slows down, and he feels like he can think even if his judgment's still clouded by how much he needs to get off.

Tyler leans over Jeremy, moving his hands—one to Jeremy's shoulder and one to his face, thumb over his pulse point. "What? What did you say, talk to me," he says. Jeremy's eyes are shut, his head tilted back, his mouth hanging open, and then, with an abrupt of jerk of his hips and a gasp, the irregular shaking of his body lessens and—holy fuck, Tyler realizes, he just saw Jeremy _come_.

The fact that that it crosses Tyler's mind how it's a prime opportunity for mocking is definitely a sign that he's fine now, even if he still doesn't think before sticking his hand down Jeremy's underwear. He's going on instinct now, crawling down Jeremy's body until he's nosing around his bellybutton and pulling Jeremy's pants and underwear a little lower. He drags his teeth down over Jeremy's stomach, nipping at skin, at Jeremy's hipbones, and his chin tugs Jeremy's boxers down as Tyler leans in lower, licking at the drying come on Jeremy's skin, on his cock, trying to be careful but failing a little.

"Give me like a minute, you can—you can blow me if you want, you should definitely blow me," says Jeremy, palming at the back of Tyler's head, neck, ear.

Tyler looks up and shakes his head, suddenly becoming extra aware of his own dick pressing against his jeans. He closes his eyes and breathes and finally manages to string a few words together. "I want to fuck you," he grits out, looking straight at Jeremy and breathing hard and trying not to let the instinct to run away and stop embarrassing himself win. It's so hard to talk; he keeps biting his lips between words. "I wanna fuck you, I can't—I _need_ —"

Jeremy nods shakily and gets rid of the rest of his clothes, all the while looking at Tyler like he's scared—scared but also curious and ridiculously turned-on all at once and Tyler's so damn glad when Jeremy says, "Do you have anything?" and scrambles off the bed, because holy shit, Tyler can't get anything himself. Tyler can barely _move_.

"I don't—know," Tyler manages.

"How can you not know? You live here," Jeremy points out, and Tyler wants to punch him for sounding so calm when Tyler still feels a little bit like he's been possessed.

Jeremy takes a long look at Tyler's face—it's probably openly pleading now, Tyler doesn't even _care_ —and wisely decides to rummage in Tyler's drawers, and—wait, Tyler does, he does know—there's definitely lube in his nightstand, the last drawer down, and he directs Jeremy to it. He probably has condoms in several places _somewhere_ , but Jeremy just says, "I got that," walks around the bed and picks up his jeans to grab a condom out of his wallet.

Tyler gets off the bed then, because Jeremy's not getting back fast enough, and he runs his fingers through Jeremy's hair before grabbing at it and kissing him. Their teeth clack but it's fine—it's fine, and it's easy to turn Jeremy around and push him down on his bed.

"I've never actually—" Jeremy warns, opening the lube. It's not self-conscious the way that chick who blew Tyler last summer was, the way Aimee was when Tyler fucked her. It's just matter of fact, and Tyler lets him talk while he gets his own clothes off. "I've never done that, but I can—" Jeremy looks at his fingers as he spreads some lube over them. "I can finger myself, I've done that."

"Give me that," Tyler says, snatching the tube from him and taking the chance to grab his hand until Tyler's own palm is slick with the stuff Jeremy got on his fingers. "Turn around," he says, and Jeremy actually complies.

Tyler climbs over his legs then, resting his weight on his knees at the sides of Jeremy's thighs. Jeremy hisses at the cold, the first touch, but it's not a bad hiss, it's just—a normal hiss that reminds Tyler to not be an asshole and say something about any other possible hissing that may happen.

"Tell me if it hurts," he says. "I'll stop, I may not notice if you don't tell me."

"I'm aware of that," Jeremy says, and Tyler would feel guilty, but the disbelief in Jeremy's tone isn't scared or repulsed, it's fucking impressed, like Jeremy can feel what Tyler's feeling second-hand, and Tyler guesses—Tyler guesses Jeremy can, since he's put him on the other end of it.

Two fingers in, Jeremy's pushing back for more and saying, "Come on, just fuck me, I'll be fine, you need to come, I'll be fine, please just do it," and Tyler doesn't have to be told three times before he clutches Jeremy's hips and rolls a condom down his cock and guides it in.

He's torn between letting his eyes close or keeping them open, watching the way he sinks into Jeremy and Jeremy just lifts his hips into it, like he really is fine, like he's feeling a fraction of the desperation Tyler's feeling.

Tyler laughs because god, he remembers feeling that way—he doesn't remember it being this _overpowering_.

"Maybe it's the moon," Jeremy says, which sounds so ridiculous. Tyler pulls almost all the way out and thrusts back in hard in response. Jeremy groans. "Maybe it is, some kind of _cycle_ —or transformation residue or—"

"It's not a moon thing," Tyler says, rolling his hips in earnest, holding onto Jeremy's thighs and changing angles, "stop talking about werewolf shit."

"You're acting like a—oh fuck do that again," Jeremy rushes.

"This?" Tyler says, driving in again, and what comes out of Jeremy's mouth this time is a short shout.

"But you are—" Jeremy attempts again, "you're acting like you're out of co—"

"Shut up," Tyler says again, "shut up," soft, and Jeremy laughs because right, being out of control is fucking _hilarious_ to him or something. Not that this is being out of control—this is not at _all_ like being out of control. Being out of control is terrifying. It's just he wants to get off so bad.

Jeremy knows that. Jeremy knows that perfectly well, and when Tyler asks him to shut up, Jeremy retaliates by fucking playing around with the muscles in his ass, squeezing Tyler's cock, and oh, fuck, it works, it works so fast it's embarrassing. This is probably worse than Jeremy coming in his pants, just going off like this before he's even had a chance to properly fuck him, but at the same it's—it's kind of amazing, and that peak lasts so much longer than Tyler thought it would.

He still _wants_ , after, but it's not as—it doesn't feel as much like he wants to crawl out of his skin.

"Better?" Jeremy says, lying down as Tyler collapses on his back. He's hard again by now, and his back is sweaty and the second Tyler's legs let him, he gets rid of the used condom and kneels up and bends over him, licking at the back of his neck, down his shoulderblades.

"Turn around," he says, and he's in the perfect place when Jeremy does to grab his cock and lick at it, around the head before swallowing it down as far as it'll go. He sucks Jeremy for a while, until Jeremy says his name a few times like a warning.

Tyler pulls off and jerks him off to spill right into his waiting mouth, open, tongue out. It should be disgusting, now Tyler's less frenetic, now he's back to normal, but he wants to taste, he wants—maybe it'd be better if he chalked this up to the wolf thing, maybe it'd be—it'd be less confusing, less embarrassing, the way he's taking it all in and there's come dribbling over his chin and it's not even his, not like when he gets his own come on his fingers and licks them clean, which is—which should be the weird part but isn't.

Tyler can feel the situation get awkward before it even does, so he prevents it by crawling up Jeremy's body and biting his lips until Jeremy reacts and kisses back.

It's actually kind of nice, making out like this. Tyler's not so caught up in anything anymore, and it's really a lot less awkward than talking would be. They stay like that for a while, until Jeremy's phone rings in his jeans.

The excuse of it is fantastic, honestly. Jeremy can say, "It's Elena," and, "I think I have to go," and Tyler can nod and say, "Okay," and let him.

Tyler doesn't say anything as he watches Jeremy get dressed, but he pulls on his jeans and a t-shirt that's hanging on his nightstand and follows Jeremy down, walks him to the door.

Okay, it's really not necessary at all, but Tyler can't help it—there's this power rush that comes from closing the door one-handed when Jeremy opens it and pushing Jeremy against it. He goes for his mouth again, and Jeremy responds at first, for a short while.

"I can't do this right now," Jeremy says, his tone amused as Tyler bites at his neck, "I have to go."

Tyler makes the effort to pull back this time, let go of Jeremy's hips. Jeremy's hand on Tyler's shoulder is the last thing to break contact.

"I'll come by," Jeremy says, opening the door again, "if you don't mind."

Tyler shrugs. "Whatever," he says, and Jeremy touches his tongue to the inside of his cheek before snorting a laugh and nodding and turning away and god, Tyler wants to yank him in again.

But he doesn't. He doesn't. He closes the door and he leans back against it and holy fuck, he just screwed Jeremy Gilbert.

And he fully intends to do it again.


End file.
